Nightmares
by planet p
Summary: AU; Everybody's nightmares are a little different, but they're all as unpleasant as the next person's. When she dreamed, nobody came to make it better. Nobody. Parker and Lyle talk on the phone.


Miss Parker glanced at her watch and suppressed a sigh – after twelve – and closed the novel she'd been re-reading for the third time. She had the same novel on her bookshelf in her living room but this wasn't her copy, it was her brother's. She'd nicked it last time she'd been 'round to his place to see Silvie when she'd been there, talking to her dad about something or other. Parker wasn't really tight with the two of them even if Lyle was supposed to be her twin and Silvie her niece (and her deceased best friend's daughter). Whenever she saw the girl, she had the inexplicable urge to ask questions other people would probably look at as stupid or callous, but she always refrained: 'Your father's a psycho killer. I've been hanging out to _kill_ him. Would you prefer I did this before or after Jethro was born?' It really irked her that the girl was an Empath and yet she still persisted in caring about her dad when he was a sociopathic, homicidal lunatic.

She should have killed him, she knew that. If she'd been a good person, she'd have done it ages ago, but she wasn't such a good person. She worked for the Centre, after all. She let them play their nutty games with her. She fought when they struck out at her, but never any other time. Never without provocation, and that _wasn__'__t_ okay. If she had been a truly good person, she'd have done something. Something to stop them, she supposed. As opposed to what she was doing now, just drifting by, essentially condoning their antics and evil behaviours.

Right now, she was waiting for Jarod to call and wondering what her nutty twin's obsession was with her favourite writer. Why was the whole book full of highlighter ink, Post-its and nonsensical number references? Was the lunatic planning on killing Darcy next? She certainly hoped not, or else she'd have to off him first. If it wasn't bad enough that Sydney was going the woman every other day, Lyle taking an interest in anyone other than himself was downright creepy. Whenever he did that, people ended up dead. Jimmy, Silvie's mom, his wife, a tonne of girls whose names she'd filed away for later reference but barely even bothered to dredge up anymore (unless there was a new entry), and too many others to recall at the late hour.

She glanced at her watch again suspiciously but the time wasn't passing any quicker (or slower) than it had been before. Grabbing her phone, she punched in a number and listened to it dialling. Stuff it, she'd just ask! It was killing her.

"Mmm?"

"That's not how you answer the phone!" she snapped. "Lunatic!"

"It's how I answer the phone at twelve in the morning, Sis. Get over it. Why are you ringing me anyway? What, did you have a bad dream? Call Sydney or something, I don't do bedtime stories."

Parker scowled darkly, but refrained from swearing. It was too late for swearing, anyway. "Why have you mutilated all your copies of Darcy's novels?" she asked, to the point.

"It's called taking notes, not mutilating, Lawyer Girl. Tough. And how would you know anyway? Been looking through my bookshelves when I wasn't looking? Um, creepy."

"You're good," Parker commented. "Aren't you supposed to be... ah, observant or something? I nicked it out of your little town house crap heap and am holding it in my hands right now!"

"Oh?"

"No shit!" She widened her eyes. "If you don't believe me, why don't you go and look."

"I'll buy it, Oliver. I'll buy it. So? It's not incriminating evidence. Your wee writer pal's not wound up dead, has she? I don't think so. What's your point, Sis?"

"Taking notes for what?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Just brushing up on my... skills..."

"Skills?" She laughed. "What skills?"

"I totally have skills. Why do you think folk talk to me, i.e. the ladies? Ah, 'cause I got skills, that's why. People skills."

"Because you're an idiot and they feel bad for you, moron."

"Yeah right. That never worked for me. I don't know what you heard from who, but people always thought I had kinda shifty eyes, even for an idiot."

Parker snorted. "And they would have been right!"

"Probably."

"Ha! Probably?"

"I can't remember. It's late! What's the big deal, anyway? Darcy's not even my type so why would I so much as look twice at her?"

"How would I know? I've never seen pictures of the woman; I've never met her. Have you?"

"No."

"Then... You know what? Forget I said anything. Stalking people is illegal."

"And what's stalking got to do with this conversation again?" Lyle asked.

Parker sighed. "Forget it."

"Whatever. Are you going to bring it back?"

"No, I'm going to drive off to the beach – at midnight – and turf it!"

"Yeah, well, don't fall in, 'cause I'm not comin' in to rescue you, that's for sure."

"Girl."

"I don't... like... salt."

"Liar."

"How would you know?"

"You like French fries."

"So? It's not the same kind of salt. And it's not icky and polluted. I'm not getting my clothes icky for you."

She laughed. "Gee, and here I was thinking you loved me!"

"Not that much, lady."

"Not a whole lot, I'm starting to sense."

"Not at twelve in the morning," he replied darkly.

"Aw! Now you feel guilty for fobbing me off. Kinda spoils the whole image, doesn't it? Not very brotherly, eh? What if I was going to kill myself?"

"As if!"

"But run with it. What if I was?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe you'd better call Sydney first. He could... talk you out of it, I bet."

"What if I didn't want to talk to Sydney?"

"Who do you want to talk to? Sam? Yeah, no. I don't think so. Even if you were about to top yourself, Sam still wouldn't answer the phone. Unless you texted him: 'Gonna off myself. Must rescue me. I love you.' And then he'd just text back: 'Finally'. I mean, not to dis the guy or anything, but that's probably more or less what he'd be thinking, even if he didn't... say it."

"I'm talking to you, idiot. What if I wanted to talk to you?"

"At this hour? I don't think so, Sis. I'm not a vampire. I have to sleep sometime."

"Who exactly am I talking to right now?"

"Tazu. I'm just pretending to be Lyle because it's stupendously funny and I can! Don't ask me how, since I'm dead, but, _dang_, my techno skills are just insanely goo-! Ow! T- It's funny, even if you don't think s-

"Whatever. I forgot what we were talking about. Run that by me again, if you please.

"You would not. Stop saying shit like that, it's spooky. Now I don't trust you. Ha-ha!"

"Who are you talking to?" Parker asked, though she hadn't heard anyone talking back to him so he was probably just talking to himself thinking that was pretty funny too. He was a freak, what was new?

"No-one. Someone I used to know. Ow! Girly, stop hittin' me. It's not funny. It's true. I did used to know you. I think... Aw, whatever! I touched you once – ha!"

Parker frowned at her bedroom wall. "Creepy much, Lyle?"

"She started it."

"Does _she_ have a name?"

"No. Not- I am not being grouchy. So what? I don't care. Think what you want." He laughed. "Oh rubbish!"

"What?" Parker asked.

"Nothing."

"Are you talking to Tazu? Dead girl?"

"Absolutely not. She's talking to me. I've stopped talking to her. She thinks... You are not _repeating_ that, Lyle! For God sake!"

Parker grinned. "What?"

"I'm not telling you. Ask Tazu yourself if you want to know. It's still not true. No! It is not. No it isn't. Yeah, go on, laugh. I'll just pretend I don't hear you. I don't care. I know I'm not. Doesn't matter; I still will. Yeah, all night! Put the pom-poms away." He sighed heavily. "You're mental. She's nuts, I swear."

"Oh well," Parker sighed, "that's what you get. If you hadn't..." she recalled the word he'd used earlier, "offed her, you wouldn't be stuck in this situation right now."

"Hmm. No. Why the Hell would I know how to do a cartwheel, Tahz? Oh! Oh, just because I was a farmer person – once, in another life! Doesn't mean a thing! I don't do cartwheels; they're for _girls_. I ain't a girl, Dumbo. I weren't never... a girl. Uh-ha! Maybe. Maybe _then_. But I don't _remember_. That's why it's called a past life. Because it's _passed_. Tuh-tah, goodbye; sayonara, baby. Crazy-! Pom-pom throwing, stompy girl! And you can't coerce me. I'm still not- Wh- When? Huh? I did not admit that. I'm just saying, I'm not showing you, no matter what you do. It's not _real_! How can I show you something that's not- Oh, pur-leez! Tazu, go away. I don't care; I don't want you holding my hand. It's embarrassing! Em-barr-uh-sing! Oh, I feel funny. Tahz? You can stay if you want. I know, I'm an idiot. I can't make my mind up. I feel really creepy. Huh? Oh. Hi, Sis."

"Why are you feeling really creepy?" Parker asked.

"Just some Empath stuff. Creepy Empath stuff." He laughed, sounding like maybe he was about to start crying. "Where are my pills? I need my pills."

"I thought you weren't taking those because they were evil," Parker prompted.

"They are evil," he returned sadly, starting to hyperventilate. "I'm still... taking... them."

"Why?"

"Sorry, love, I have to hang up. Go to sleep, get some rest. You'll wake up when Jarod rings, if he rings. He probably will. I gotta go. 'Night." He hung up.

Parker glared at her phone, then smiled. She hoped Tazu had brought all of her dead girlfriends to haunt his ass, to be honest, though she had a feeling it wasn't that, as awesome as it would have been. It was probably just his new neighbours, the ones who'd moved in in the place next door where the guy who'd used to live there had always been stealing Lyle's bin. Apparently, as she'd heard from Broots, who'd heard from Silvie, the new neighbours weren't much better. They liked hurting each other otherwise they couldn't get in the mood. Parker could see how that might hit a bit too close to home for her lunatic brother.

She hoped he suffered, the creep.

Glancing at her phone one last time, she frowned and relegated it to the night-stand, deciding to try and get a little shut eye before she had to go to work tomorrow morning. If Jarod rang, maybe she'd answer. Maybe she'd answer just to have a laugh with him about her nutty brother's new neighbours, though, knowing Jarod, he wouldn't find it funny, merely insulting, so maybe she wouldn't say anything. Or maybe she just wouldn't answer. Maybe he'd get worried and decide to drop by and she, for once, wouldn't have to go running after him!

It was a nice thought, she told herself, and turned off her lamp and lay down, closing her eyes. It was a nice thought but Jarod would never be that stupid. Even if she was in trouble, he'd never just hop in the car and come to her rescue. He'd have to run a half a dozen Sims first and calculate a billion and one variables about this and that; he'd have to do the research so he knew exactly what he was getting into first and what his chances of successfully carrying out his mission were.

She would know; she was a Pretender, too, even if she didn't advertise the fact. Even if the company couldn't legitimately go off at her for not utilising her Pretending skills to the best of her abilities each and every time she failed to haul Jarod's ass back to Blue Cove. They couldn't admit they'd known she was being mistreated at that place or that she'd been trained as a Pretender or an Inner Sense Possessor because that would be too much like digging their own graves: they'd have betrayed their word to her father and even if her father was dead, Raines and Sarah, his siblings, were not. And they would make sure the Tower got what for if they ever came after her with any such allegations.

It was beside the point, anyway, she thought, as she was starting to become sleepy. She wasn't the trained Pretender/ISP. That had been Molly. She was Miss Parker. Melody and Molly had integrated and they'd become her; she was nowhere near as skilled as Molly, and nowhere near as "human" as Melody. She was something in-between. Sorta like Lyle, she thought with disgust.

She hated to admit it, but it was true. Even if she'd met her real twin tomorrow, she wouldn't have been able to say with complete honesty, 'I'm the one you've been looking for: I'm your sister'. She was, but she wasn't. She wasn't the one he'd left behind, she was different now. As much as she detested the idea, she was more like that creep Lyle's sister than her real twin's sister. She was damaged beyond repair, altered beyond repair, and even though she'd chosen this path herself – even though Melody had chosen to integrate with Molly – she'd known all along that when she came out the other end she'd be different. She'd known what she'd been sacrificing but she'd detested Molly that much that she'd just had to try _anything_ to put a stop to her, to curb her, in even just the smallest of ways.

That woman had tried to kill her _baby_! She'd _had_ to go down!

With these thoughts in mind, Parker drifted off into an uneasy sleep. When she dreamed, nobody came to make it better. Not Jarod, not her real twin, nobody. The nightmares were all hers, and hers alone.

Or so she thought.


End file.
